The Youngest Autobot
by Cricket24
Summary: Pre-Movie2007 - This is the story of how Bumblebee came to be with the Autobots and his life as a youngling in their care.
1. Beginnings

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Transformers. I just like to write about them.**

**Reviews are welcome, but please be kind. This is my first attempt at a Transformers fic and I'm still getting used to all the characters.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**The Youngest Autobot**

She ran as fast as her weary injured legs would carry her. Stumbling over the rough terrain, she soldiered on, desperate to find shelter. Her body screamed to go offline. Just a few short joors in recharge mode and she was sure she'd be fine. But she had to go on. She had to get away.

He was coming.

Startled by the roar of an incoming engine, she tripped over a loose shard in the ground and fell in an exhausted heap. Shakily pushing herself onto her side, she creaked open her chestplate, peering inside.

"Thank Primus!" The femmebot looked over her shoulder, fearful her pursuer was closing in. Taking one last look inside, she snapped her chestplate closed, scrambled to her feet, and continued to search frantically for shelter. Her optics scanning nearby caves, she had no time to second guess herself. She pulled at every last ounce of energy her battered body could muster and raced for the nearest opening of the deep, dark caverns.

Once inside the yawning damp darkness, the femmebot scanned the area with her night vision, focusing on a high ledge nestled behind the razor sharp stalactites shooting down from the ceiling like menacing swords. This was her only chance. Taking a running leap, she bounced from a thick stalagmite to the rough inner wall of the cave, grabbed the outermost part of the tiny ledge and pulled the upper half of her robotic body into the crevasse. Wasting no time, she opened her chestplate and carefully extracted its contents. Her watery optics glowed with a mixture or pure love and great despair.

"Primus be with you." Her voice processor wavered and she squeezed her optics tightly closed. Laying the object gently onto the ledge, the femmebot gave it one last longing look before she jumped to the rocky floor of the cave.

And she ran.

* * *

He was getting close. He could _feel _her. His eerie red optics scanned the ground below him, searching for any kind of movement in the dead land stillness. And then he spotted it: a shimmer in the dullness, just a twinkle in the gray smoldering rocks below. He smirked, making his decent at a startling speed. 

Transforming in mid-air, he grabbed the fleeing femmebot by her waist, slamming her to the ground, cackling as she cried out in pain.

"You've come a long way, femme." He sneered down upon her. "A long way for nothing."

She turned her optics upon him. But he did not see fear in them as he wished. No, the femmebot looked at him in disgust.

"No distance is far enough away from you, Starscream," she hissed, shooting him with a blast from her arm cannon.

Starscream stumbled back, but came after the fallen femmebot with renewed anger. "Give me what I want, femme!"

"Never!"

Starscream grabbed the defiant femme, hurling her into a nearby boulder. Hearing the crushing of her internal circuits was music to his auditory receptors. He knew the fight had gone out of her. The femmebot had been running from him for six orns. She was most certainly too exhausted and too damaged to continue to fight or flee. "If you will not give it to me, then I will _take _it!" he screamed.

He towered above the severely damaged femmebot, looking down upon her with his scorching red optics. The femme stared at him, seemingly resigned to her fate, but courageous none the less.

"You will never be anything except his whipping bot, Starscream," she wheezed. "You . . . are . . . a coward."

Enraged by her words, the Decepticon bellowed with anger. "_He_ will one day bow to _me_! And starting _now_, what is his shall be _mine_!"

And with that, Starscream crushed the femme's fragile throat wires beneath his heavy foot, extinguishing her life spark. Roaring his victory, he grabbed her ravaged chestplate, tearing it open, anxious to claim his prize.

But it was gone.

"Noooooooooo!"

* * *

_(48 joors later…)_

"Jazz! Would you slow down for one slagging breem?!" Ironhide roared.

In vehicle mode, Jazz was quite a bit faster than his older, bigger counterparts. At Ironhide's bellow, he slowed marginally to let his fellow soldiers catch up. It had been a long, weary, seemingly never-ending recon mission that he and his fellow Autobot soldiers had been carrying out for the last few joors. But his leader, Optimus Prime, had insisted that the team scour every last slagging shard of this Autobot-protected sector. Apparently, word had come from the base that a Decepticon jet had been seen in this particular sector a few joors ago. Message of a 'Con spotted in Autobot territory was not to be taken lightly.

"Sorry, Big Guy!" Jazz replied. "Didn't mean for ya to choke on my Cybertronian dust!" he joked while speeding circles around the massive black bot.

"Fragging show off," Ironhide grumbled.

Optimus and Rachet looked on in amusement. So far, there were no signs of any Decepticon intrusion, and the joors of their search were winding down. Optimus was just about to give the command to head back to base, when a speeding Jazz let out a yelp and barrel-rolled over a boulder protruding from the ground.

Ironhide harrumphed, "That's whatcha get for screwin' around."

"Jazz, are you alright?" Optimus inquired.

"Yeah." Wheeze. "Yeah, I'm okay. What the slag was that?" Jazz transformed and paced back to the place where he'd begun to barrel-roll. But it wasn't a boulder that he'd driven over. "Holy Creator of Primus . . ." he breathed.

"Jazz?"

"Optimus, you need to come take a look at this."

The three remaining Autobots transformed and made their way over to where Jazz was standing. And what they'd discovered made them all mute with shock.

"Optimus? Is it a –-"

"Yes, Jazz. It's a femmebot."

"But I thought they no longer existed?" Ironhide interjected.

"There have been no known femmebots in exsistance for the past 3,000 vorns."

"But this femme seems to have only been offline for a few joors." Ratchet kneeled down to closer inspect the fallen femmebot. "She's been badly beaten," he assured regretfully. Reaching out, Ratchet smoothed his hand over the femme's brow.

A bright blue laser beam shot from the femmebot's optics, knocking Ratchet on his aft.

"What the - ?!" Jazz jumped back.

"Ratchet?" Optimus leaned down to help the medical officer to his feet.

"Wow! That packed a bit of a punch," Ratchet replied, shaking off the shock of the hit. "I'm okay. I'm fine."

"Looks like you need to schedule another new paintjob," Ironhide pointed out, gesturing to Ratchet's chestplate.

"Oh slag it!" Ratched shouted, looking down at his dented and scarred chestplate. "This will be the fifth one this vorn!"

"Wait a minute . . . Wait a minute!" Jazz interjected. "Look at the markings the laser beam left on Ratchet's chestplate." They all took a closer study of the dents and dings. "It looks like a –"

"A map," Ironhide agreed.

The quartet looked down at the fallen femmebot and then back at Ratchet's chest.

"We gotta see where the map leads," Jazz said.

"It could be a trap," the ever-careful Ironhide replied.

"But what if it leads us to more femmebots? If this femme slid under the Cybertronian radar for this many years, there could be more out there," Jazz said.

"Or it could lead us right into the Decepticons' claws. This poor femme didn't go offline all by herself. Someone or something shut her off . . . permanently. " Ironhide shook his massive head, looking down upon the femme.

"Optimus?" Rachet asked.

The three Autobots looked to their leader for a decision. Optimus stared at Ratchet's chestplate, his blue optics scanning. They waited for his word.

"It's a chance we must take, Ironhide. We need to know what this map leads to. The femmebot must have programmed the map in her memory circuits before she went offline. Wherever it leads, it was important enough for her to let someone else know about it." Optimus looked at his soldiers. "We will return here later to take the femmebot back to base. She deserves more than to be left here in this shard wasteland." The others nodded in agreement. "Autobots, transform and roll out!"

* * *

They transformed from their alternate forms in front of the entrance to a massive cave. It had long since gone dark outside, but the cave's inky gloom made even the most seasoned Autobot soldier a little jittery. 

"This is it?" Jazz asked.

"I don't like this, Optimus." Ironhide was sure to make his feelings known as his optics darted around uneasily.

"I'll take point," Optimus said, leading the way into the cool blackened depths.

With their weapons fully charged and humming with anticipation, the quartet descended into the mouth of the cave. Their night vision made the path visible, but the uneven and slick terrain made for a treacherous hike. Soon, the long corridor opened up into a giant cavern teeming with million-vorn old stalagmites and stalactites.

"Woah," Jazz's voice echoed off the cavern walls. "Pretty creepy."

"Something is here." Optimus meticulously scanned the walls of the cavern. The unmistakable hum of a charging arm cannon filtered through the large cave. "Easy, Ironhide," he soothed his ever-ready weapons specialist.

"I feel it too," Ratchet replied, scanning the cave as well. "It's faint, but it feels like . . . a life spark?"

"Yeah," Jazz agreed. "But I don't feel that edgy buzz like I do when a 'Con is near. This . . . this spark doesn't feel hostile."

"I agree." Optimus nodded. "Is anyone there?" he called out, his voice bouncing off the rough walls of the cave.

Silence.

"We mean you no harm," Ratchet added.

The four Autobots strained their auditory receptors, searching for any sound. And then . . .

"Did you hear that?" Jazz whispered.

"Hear what?" Ironhide rumbled.

"Shh shh! . . .That!" Jazz strained to hear the sound again. "Kinda like a clicking sound."

"It's coming from up there." Ratchet pointed to a small ledge, high up behind the sharp stalactites.

Being the tallest of the crew, Optimus walked over to the opening in the cavern wall. He pulled himself up, cautiously peering into the crevasse of the tiny ledge. His optics scanned carefully . . . and then widened.

"Optimus?" Jazz asked impatiently. "What is it?"

The soft clicking could be heard again, a little louder this time. The tense Autobots waited for their leader to respond. Optimus slowly turned and looked down at them, disbelief shining from his laser blue optics.

"It's a . . . It's a sparkling!"


	2. Sparkling

**Thank you for all the reviews! I hope to keep this fic updated as often as possible. Now, on to Chapter 2 . . .**

* * *

The Autobots watched their leader carefully climb down from the cavern ledge. He was cradling . . . _something_ in his left hand. They gathered around as Optimus paused near the center of the cavern. 

"A sparkling, sir? Are you sure? There haven't been any sparklings or younglings on Cybertron for . . ." Ratchet trailed off as he glimpsed what Optimus had brought down from the ledge.

All of the mechs stared in stunned awe at the tiny being curled in Optimus' palm. With his little yellow head resting on Optimus' fingers and his tiny feet barely reaching Optimus' wrist, he was undoubtedly the smallest bot any of them had seen for thousands of vorns. The minibot blinked his bright blue owlish optics rapidly, staring back at them just as curiously. He clicked softly before his wide optics watered and he began to whimper.

"Holy Primus," Ironhide breathed. "A sparkling! I wouldn't have believed it if I wasn't seeing it with my own optics."

"It's been many vorns since I've seen a sparkling, sir, but it seems this one looks to be only orns old." Ratchet paused as the sparkling began to cry in earnest. "And who knows how long he's been in this cave. He must be starved for energon."

Optimus nodded. "First priority is getting this sparkling back to base where he can be properly nourished and scanned for viruses. Ratchet, you'll come with me while Jazz and Ironhide double back to retrieve the remains of the femmebot."

Jazz shook his head sadly. "The femmebot must have been this little guy's -–"

"Most likely, yes," Optimus agreed. "But we can't dwell on that now." Optimus looked at each of his soldiers then stared down at the tiny wailing sparkling. "Until I say otherwise, this mission is to be classified above top secret. The less bots that know about this, the better." He glanced back at his mechs. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they said in unison.

The tiny bot hiccupped between sobs, looking up at Optimus with an energon streaked faceplate. Optimus felt his spark swell. He literally held hope for his species in the palm of his hand.

* * *

"That's the way," Ratchet soothed. He had long since finished running scan tests on the little sparkling and now had the bot tucked in his elbow, holding an energon cube to the little one's eager mouth. The petite robot suckled at the cube, trying to clutch it with his tiny fingers, all the while staring up into Ratchet's smiling face. "Slow down there, little one," Ratchet laughed as the sparkling coughed. "That's what happens when you drink too fast. You're a hungry little bugger, aren't ya?" 

Optimus Prime stepped into the medical bay. It was a bit of a shock to see his elder medical officer, who he'd battled alongside for vorns, comforting and _cooing_ the tiny yellow sparkling that they'd discovered only joors ago. But he was glad that a least _one_ Autobot in his convoy had some knowledge of how to care for a sparkling.

"Anything to report, Ratchet?" Optimus asked as his optics scanned their new charge.

"All the tests came back negative, sir." Ratchet turned, facing his superior. The little bot in his arms continued to suckle while his inquisitive optics tracked to the commander. "This little guy's condition is exceptional, especially considering what he's been through these last few orns. He's a perfectly healthy sparkling."

"He seems very alert . . . and content now that he's gotten some energon in his belly."

"Yes."

"No one has been in the medical bay while you've been tending to him?"

"No, sir. I made it clear that I was not to be disturbed unless it was a dire emergency."

Optimus sighed. "I'll have to brief the other mechs about this. We cannot have a sparkling here at the base without other Autobots finding out about him. But discretion is key. The femmebot hid her sparkling for a reason. She gave up her life spark trying to protect him." He looked at Ratchet. "And we shall do the same."

Ratchet nodded and looked down at the young bot whose optics had begun to droop. His tiny hand gripped the tip of the mech's finger. Ratchet set the nearly empty energon cube aside and gently swayed with the sparkling in his arms. "I haven't done this in a long time," he whispered. "Cared for a sparkling, I mean. I'd forgotten how good it feels." He felt the sparkling go limp, finally settling in recharge mode. "Only Primus knows why he's come to us now," Ratchet spoke softly. "With the war strengthening . . . this is no time or place for a youngling."

"Perhaps that is the very reason he _has_ come to us." Optimus watched Ratchet tenderly lay the recharging sparkling in a make-shift cradle, merely a tin box lined with thick solar blankets. Both mechs looked down into the box, watching over the little yellow bot that had curled himself into tiny ball. And for the moment, all was calm. "How better to win a war . . . than with peace?"

* * *

_(A joor later…) _

"So where is the little tyke?" Jazz asked as he marched into the medical bay with Ironhide in tow.

"Shh!" Ratchet scolded. Then, holding a finger to his metal lips, pointed to the tin box setting in a chair by his workstation.

Jazz and Ironhide quietly sidled over to check on the newest addition to the Autobot community. "Primus, the bugger is tiny," Jazz whispered. "Is he healthy? I mean, he looks really small and frail."

"He's a sparkling, Jazz. He's supposed to be small," Ironhide chided. "He's okay, though, right Ratchet?" he asked, his voice processor tinged with worry as he looked at Ratchet expectantly.

"He's fine." Ratchet assured with a smile.

"Good . . . good. Can't have a sickly sparkling on our hands. Not that we don't have enough to deal with already without having to worry about a clingy, helpless minibot," Ironhide grumbled, but couldn't hide a ghost of a smile as he peered into the box again.

Did the two of you successfully extract the femmebot?" Optimus asked as he entered the room.

"Yes, sir," they assured.

Optimus nodded. "She shall receive a proper soldier's burial."

They all nodded in solemn agreement.

"So . . . now what?" Jazz asked.

"I've called for a meeting at oh eight hundred joors tomorrow. I've thought about the 'above top secret' classification, and although the existence of the sparkling must be kept under wraps, the other Autobots have to be apprised of our new young charge," Optimus explained.

"I agree." Ratchet nodded. "Some others are going to need to learn how to care for him. I cannot do it alone."

And as if on cue, the sparkling began to stir as whimpers could be heard emanating from beneath the solar blankets.

"Shh! Everybody be quiet . . . maybe he'll go back to recharge mode," Jazz said.

Ratchet just shook his head and sighed as the whimpers turned into full blown cries. "Pick him up," he ordered.

"Wha? Me?" Jazz took a few steps back. "Oh no, no, no. I'm not ready for that yet. What . . . what if I drop him?"

"Sparklings constantly need to feel the reassurance and warmth of a fellow robot and their spark. It soothes them and helps them to feel safe," Ratchet explained.

Still, Jazz made no move towards the weeping minibot.

"Oh, for Primus sake!" Ironhide yelled, reaching inside the tin box while giving Jazz the evil optic. He gently retrieved the wriggling, sobbing sparkling, still wrapped in a thick silver blanket. Tucking the bot under his chin, he tenderly rubbed the sparkling's back until his cries subsided, replaced by quiet hiccups and chirping. "There now, no need for tears," he rumbled softly.

The other three mechs stared, mouths dropped wide as the big, bad, grumpy weapons specialist easily soothed the tiny bot.

Ironhide spotted them gawking. "What? I wanted the bugger to shut up, so I shut him up," he grumbled as he continued to carefully run his massive hand up and down the little bot's back. "And _that_ pile of scrap metal was no help," he added, nodding towards Jazz.

The little yellow sparkling continued to chirp and buzz as he squirmed underneath Ironhide's palm.

"I think he likes you," Jazz said, smiling.

"Hmrph! Shows how much sense the little guy's got. Annoying too, if you ask me," Ironhide said, trying to resort back to his irritable self. "Sounds like a slagging cyberbee with all that clicking and buzzing he's doing next to my auditory receptor," he said as he patted the skidplate of the now happily chirping and buzzing minibot. But Ironhide couldn't continue to frown. One fleeting look from those big blue sparkling optics and his spark fluttered. "Well, maybe more like a cute, fuzzy bumblebee."

"Bumblebee," Optimus repeated. He smiled slowly. "I believe you've just given the sparkling his name, Ironhide."

"Huh . . . well, it suits him anyway." Ironhide shifted the tiny bot to the crook of his elbow, running his finger down the side of the sparkling's faceplate causing him to coo and smile. Ironhide smiled back.

Optimus took a deep breath, feeling his own spark flutter. From that moment on, his life on the base would be different, as would many others. But he wouldn't have it any other way. "Tomorrow we introduce the base to the newest and youngest Autobot . . . Bumblebee."


End file.
